


Breaking Down the Veil

by Deathangelgw



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:23:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathangelgw/pseuds/Deathangelgw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel usually has a strong control on his memories of his past life. But when the Battle of the Last Alliance reminds him of a past he thought forgotten, can Elrond and Erestor help him heal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down the Veil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



> Written for the Slashy Valentine contest. I volunteered to pitch hit and am very glad that something popped up for sure! Thanks to all who encouraged me to get back into writing, thanks to the one I wrote this for, Lynndyre, for without your desire, I'd have had no muse. Much gratitude to MA-chan for nitpicking as a grand beta ^^ Enjoy and please feel free to review!

Title: Breaking Through the Veil  
Author: Deathangelgw  
Email: deathangelgw@gmail.com  
Disclaimer: None of the characters presented here are my property. They are the property of the Tolkien Estate. I am only using them for pleasurable purposes and nefarious deeds. >3  
Rating: R  
Warnings: AU, sap, angst, slash, hint of past death, hurt/comfort.  
Pairing: Elrond+/Glorfindel+/Erestor, hinted past Glorfindel/Ecthelion, Glorfindel+Turgon  
Summary: Glorfindel usually has a strong control on his memories of his past life. But when the Battle of the Last Alliance reminds him of a past he thought forgotten, can Elrond and Erestor help him heal?  
Timeline: Just after the Battle of the Last Alliance  
Word Count: 3059 words  
Author's Note: Written for the Slashy Valentine contest. I volunteered to pitch hit and am very glad that something popped up for sure! Thanks to all who encouraged me to get back into writing, thanks to the one I wrote this for, Lynndyre, for without your desire, I'd have had no muse. Much gratitude to MA-chan for nitpicking as a grand beta ^^ Enjoy and please feel free to review!

'thoughts'

{Morannon, 54 Yávië TA}

“Elrond.”

Elrond wiped a hand over his face as he looked over and straightened from the Man he was healing. Erestor came into the healing tent, looking much disheveled, hair loose from several battle braids and his face covered in dirt. Then again, even as Elrond noted that, he reminded himself that no one was clean. 

The aftermath of the Battle of the Last Alliance was a lot of clean-up: clean-up of the wounded, clean-up of the dead, and clean-up of the remaining evil within the area. Elrond, as one of the remaining leaders, was in charge of the wounded and dead, while Isildur, Celeborn, and Elendur managed the withdrawals of their troops from Barad-dúr. Durin and Thranduil had already departed with what was left of their troops, their casualties far worse than many of the remaining armies, save for the Orcs. But Elrond knew that Thranduil was dealing with the loss of his father as well as over two thirds of his people. He had a feeling it would be a very long time before the King of Greenwood the Great would ever be open to outsiders again.

Letting his thoughts slide away, Elrond focused on Erestor as his friend approached him, troubled. "What is it, meldiren?" he asked gently and tried to hide the fatigue that was a constant companion to him of late. (my dear friend)

"We cannot find Glorfindel. He went in search of more Orcs up into the Ephel Dúath, but according to Haldir, it was as if he was a spirit possessed. I fear that something may have triggered memories of his past life and now he may be doing something that will bring harm," Erestor explained as they quickly walked from the encampment. 

Closing his eyes briefly, Elrond sighed quietly, feeling his worry and grief mingling within him. "Let us find him and pray that he has not fallen as he did in his past life," he said before they finally found some spare steeds and headed towards the burning peaks of Ephel Dúath. They traveled quickly, catching up to the clean-up group that Haldir was now leading with Glorfindel's disappearance. "Haldir...where was he last seen?" Elrond asked as they drew up near the group of Men and Elves where they milled in preparation for continuing their quest.

Haldir looked up and bowed his head, fist on his chest in salute. "He went South and East, my Lord. He...was as if being hunted. None of us could get through to him. Luckily, he did not attack us, only Orcs, but then he cried out about a Balrog and went off into the mountains. We tried to keep up with him, but he far outstripped us...I have never seen the like. I knew he was a great warrior, but this is almost supernatural in its power," he explained worriedly and some of the other soldiers nodded in agreement, murmuring. 

"We shall find him...continue your hunt. Make safe these mountains so that we can all return home," Elrond ordered, his voice rising with conviction and a weary cheer rose up in answer from the gathered. With that, Elrond and Erestor kneed their steeds into a careful cantor, heading in the direction that had been given. As they traveled, it grew darker and Elrond's worry began to rise further. "We should have caught up to him by now," he muttered and Erestor nodded as he tucked a strand of inky hair behind his ear.

Suddenly, they heard shouting and the clashing of swords and took off towards it, hearts racing in adrenaline. They came upon a sight that astonished them when they came to a rise. Glorfindel stood in the midst of what looked to be at least a hundred Orcs, hacking, slashing, and destroying the evil creatures with a preternatural strength that was amazing. He all but glowed with the power, but his eyes were what caught them. Haunted pale blue eyes filled with grief and rage pinned onto each Orc before he savagely attacked, which seemed to take the fight out of the Orcs. But the Orcs pressed in, most likely thinking that sheer numbers would be able to take down the Elf Lord.

Not letting that happen, Elrond and Erestor gave battle cries as they kneed their horses into action, plunging into the middle of the battle. They cut and slashed the Orcs, wading through until there were none left alive. Finally, once they had finished, they dismounted and approached Glorfindel, who was standing in the center of the carnage, breathing hard. His golden hair was flying in the wind, his eyes wide with battle frenzy, yet tears rolled down the grime covered cheeks. He suddenly looked over and gave a cry, his sword coming up as he moved to charge them.

"Hold, Glorfindel! We are friends!" Elrond shouted as they both brought up their swords defensively.

"Friends!? Friends! Allies at last! We must go back! Gondolin falls and we must make sure Tuor escapes! Turgon...ah Valar Turgon fell! And Ecthelion! My dearest Ecthelion! Wait...do you hear that?" Glorfindel cried and looked around, his eyes wide with terror. "Go...go now! Watch the way! The Balrog...he's found us!" he ordered as he hefted his sword.

But they were quick to move before he took off and grabbed him, wrapping their arms around him and through his arms as he struggled, disarming him in the process. "Glorfindel! You are not at Gondolin! You are safe! It is I! Elrond! You were successful in protecting my grandparents! You are returned to Middle Earth! Remember!" he shouted as they struggled to hold the immensely strong Elf Lord.

But the words finally seemed to break through the fog and Glorfindel slowed in his struggles...and stopped. He stared at nothing before blinking and looking first at Elrond and then at Erestor. "Meldiren...what am I doing here? Why are you holding me as if I was struggling?" he asked, confusion tingeing his soft tenor even as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. (My friends)

"You were trapped in your past, meldir. Did something happen to make you believe you were at the fall of Gondolin?" Elrond replied in worry as they slowly released him. He was relieved that Glorfindel seemed to be returned, but how long would it last? Something had indeed happened to set Glorfindel so far back into such a tragedy.

Glorfindel slowly shook his head, his eyes a bit wide as he visibly struggled to remember what had happened. Erestor smiled gently and placed his hand on Glorfindel's, followed quickly by Elrond. "No matter. You are safe and that tragedy is in the past...come back to the encampment. I'm sure you're tired. I know I am," he said and Glorfindel looked up again and nodded. They led the blond Elf to Erestor's horse, where he mounted up easily and shifted so Erestor was mounted behind him. 

Elrond mounted up as well and clicked his tongue, urging his horse back towards the main encampment. But Elrond kept an eye on Glorfindel as they traveled through the darkening forest, noting the listless and unresponsive look to his friend. Such memories were buried for a reason and Glorfindel had never expressed a need for healing when he had arrived back in Middle Earth. That didn't mean that Elrond hadn't kept an eye on his Seneschal and friend.

Resolving silently to be more vigilant, Elrond returned his gaze forward as they finally approached the camp's border. He knew Erestor would be with him on this since they, as a trio, were the founding of Imladris. If one of them weakened, then the others would as well from the stress. Not only that though...they all three had a very strong bond beyond friendship. He realized that they'd never acknowledged the bond, but it was there. One didn't work so closely with others and not forge a deep bond. He would use that to help Glorfindel work through his past.

*~~**~~*

{Pelennor Fields, 6 Quellë TA}

"Orcs! Orcs are storming the city! To me, my men! Sound the call!"

Glorfindel's shouting woke up Elrond with a start and he grabbed his robe, pulling it on as he went outside. They had finally left Barad-dúr after a couple more weeks of making sure the injured didn't join the dead and had made slow progress through the Marshes and towards Gondor. In that time, Glorfindel had managed to stay within the current time, but he and Erestor could tell it had taken great willpower for their friend to do so. They had just camped on the Pelennor Fields before the great Minas Tirith and had parted company with Isildur and his remaining family and people. They would be continuing their journey home, first to Lothlórien, so that Celeborn could take his Galadhrim back to their home, and then the rest of them would be returning to Imladris to heal and rest. So far, there had been no incursions of Orcs, so this cry was very alarming indeed.

He ran through the tents along with several others as shouts of confusion rose up, but didn't drown out the frantic screaming of Glorfindel as the Elf Lord strove to awaken the troops to fight to 'save the city'. They found Glorfindel with sword out and torch in hand as he fought with foes that had died centuries ago. Elrond felt his heart rend in sorrow at the pain, rage, and anguish that was etched on the noble face and knew he had to bring Glorfindel out of his memories once more. He looked around and found Erestor there, then nodded. As one, the two ran at Glorfindel while others gathered nearby to help. They each grabbed Glorfindel once more, shouting so he would wake up and be aware again. 

Slowly, Glorfindel stopped struggling and fell to his knees, shaking with exertion, exhaustion, and memories that were tormenting him. Elrond held his friend close along with Erestor, then looked about as Celeborn began sending everyone back to their tents and posts. The silver haired Elf then knelt next to them, cupping Glorfindel's hands. "Glorfindel...you are safe. It is Elrond and Erestor who hold you...it is Celeborn who is speaking to you. Please return from those dark days into our light," he said gently. 

Seeming to come around, Glorfindel looked up, his face still streaked with tears, but not as haunted. "I fear...I need aid, my friends..." he managed finally, his voice quiet and hoarse.

"All you needed to do was ask, meldiren," Elrond murmured before tucking Glorfindel in close as the golden Elf turned and buried his face in Elrond's shoulder. The other two Elves moved closer, holding the two as Glorfindel wept for the past. After a bit, Glorfindel allowed himself to be returned to Elrond's tent, where he curled up immediately and fell into reverie. Elrond nodded to the other two, then joined his friend on his bed. He wrapped his arms around Glorfindel and held the golden haired Elf close to him, soothing away any remaining nightmares that might disturb his friend's reverie.

*~~**~~*

{Imladris, 31 Hrívë TA}

Glorfindel sat before the fireplace of the Fire Hall, looking very much lost in thought. Elrond watched him quietly (along with Erestor), the last members of Imladris to be up after the celebrations for Winter Solstice. It had been two weeks since they’d returned home and their dead had been buried, but Glorfindel had remained quiet. He had not spoken with Elrond or Erestor since that night on the Pelennor Fields and, instead, had seemed to immerse himself in his duties. While commendable, they both knew that it was only a blockage that was soon going to fester and burst with disastrous results. 

He went over and sat next to his friend, gazing into the flames, while sipping on his mulled wine. The feast had been sumptuous and joyful, but there had been one blot for Elrond and Erestor, which had dampened the celebration some, but not enough to stop it. But slowly, they had gone to their beds, singly, grouped, and more often tipsy, which had made their Lord smile in amusement before his worry had taken over for his dear friend. He heard some shuffling and caught Erestor sitting down on the other side of Glorfindel in the plush settee and sipping from his own goblet. He returned to his perusal of the flames, both of them just being quiet support for the silent golden Elf.

“It was this night…”

Looking over at the soft statement, Elrond watched as a tear rolled down a pale cheek. He said nothing, as did Erestor, allowing for Glorfindel to speak his ghosts out. Glorfindel stayed silent for a bit before he continued. “We were celebrating the longest night, our Celebration of Light…the music was lovely. Ecthelion…he was playing a new song he had composed while he had been on the Wall. You would have been amazed…his fingers touched the strings of his lute delicately and the music he produced would have made your heart think you were with Elbereth herself amidst her stars,” Glorfindel said softly and a loving smile caressed the soft lips. “I remember Turgon dancing with Aredhel, her face finally smiling…she had seen much darkness. It still amazes me how she had survived…” he trailed off again as his smile disappeared.

He remained silent for a while and Elrond began to wonder if he was too deep into the memories to break free. But Glorfindel took a deep breath suddenly, shaky and sharp with sudden grief so profound it was palpable. “We were unprepared…Maeglin…he killed the guard with the aid of Orcs and Drakes…and they came into Gondolin like a fiery wave that brought death and destruction. We scrambled to arm, but it was too late. I w-watched…watched as my people tried to escape. Fight…fight my men! Defend Turgon! Let them feel our steel!” Glorfindel suddenly stood, crouched and panting as if he was battling. He turned rapidly, his arm flashing fluidly as if defending himself and Elrond marveled at the skill. But they had to break through to him…but Elrond wasn’t sure how.

“The city…Gondolin burns, my Lord! We must escape! Ecthelion! Ecthelion…no Ecthelion no!” Glorfindel cried, his voice breaking with grief so sharp it would cut real flesh. He turned, his face streaked with tears as he covered his ears. “No I will not…please do not make me, Turgon!” he pleaded as he faced the specter of the former High King. He brought his hand up then, gently cupping what had to be a face before he turned. “Retreat! To the pass!” he cried and began moving away. Elrond and Erestor moved then, gently guiding Glorfindel through his memories, but not from the room. Glorfindel acted as if climbing through a cavern and then along a mountain pass. He stopped then and straightened, turning to face whatever he saw behind him. He said nothing more as he ‘drew’ his sword and faced what Elrond realized then was the Balrog that had taken the golden Elf’s life before. 

He knew then…he had to stop this memory. Moving without thought, Elrond went in front of Glorfindel and cupped the tear streaked face that was creased with agony and determination. Glorfindel started, his eyes wide as Elrond whispered, “Lasto bethin, Glorfindel…díred en galad nin.” He leaned in as Glorfindel stilled and brushed his lips over Glorfindel’s, letting his own special healing power flow from him into Glorfindel, filling the Elf Lord with light and guiding him from the precipice of darkness that was threatening. (Hear my words, Glorfindel…seek to my light)

A very soft whimper left Glorfindel as he wrapped his arms around Elrond and responded to the kiss suddenly. Elrond guided Glorfindel to the settee, where Erestor was waiting, and sat Glorfindel down, their lips never parting. He would banish this darkness and give Glorfindel a new light.

*~~**~~*

Glorfindel stood near the windows of his room, watching the dawn arrive once more and touch the Vale he had come to call his beloved home. He looked over his shoulder at the two dark haired Elves in his bed, smiling as his gaze traveled over the pale limb here, the strong torso there that peeked out from under his silk sheets. They had made love through the night, the light the two sharing with him served to banish his nightmares as well as pushed back his memories. He had never known such passion could exist in the two, but then he chided himself. There was great passion there for that was how they fought. They were not book worms, politicians, or simple home bodies. They were warriors…warriors of light that had taken away the veil of darkness that had held him for many centuries since his rebirth and had healed some of the wounds. He was not healed fully, for they were not miracle workers, but it didn’t hurt as much. 

Smiling as he placed a hand over his heart, Glorfindel knew he would be able to stand by them and guide this vale and even Middle Earth towards the path that needed to come to pass. For now, he lived in the present. And for that…he was grateful.

The End!


End file.
